


Dark Waters

by beng



Series: The Dawn Will Come [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blackwall POV, Exalted Plains, F/M, Left to Grieve (side-quest), Minor/vague spoilers for Blackwall, No Word Back (side-quest), Riverside Garrison, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beng/pseuds/beng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He worries, he loves, he fights, he protects.<br/>He lies, and it's always the small things that keep him doing it.</p><p>Blackwall's POV before the Explanations quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Head thrown back, Blackwall watched Rinata balancing on a beam that was propped against the wall of yet another ruined farmhouse on the Exalted Plains. Apparently, someone at some point had decided that the Inquisition should be, in fact, collecting those blasted shards, and one of the pieces was on that roof.

_(He had asked her a few days ago whose bright idea it had been, and she’d said she didn’t remember either.)_

_(He’d also wanted to ask her who in his right mind hid broken elven artefacts on farmhouse roofs, but then he’d figured that she was busy as it is, without having to answer his foolish questions. It was not his job to understand.)_

The redhead moved in small, accurate steps, each foot planted solidly on the slippery wood before shifting her weight and making the next. There was no particular grace about her movements, but her steady progress was reassuring, reminding him of her past, of shady alleys and walled courtyards, secret conversations and uneasy alliances. Rinata Cadash didn’t need a door and a stair to get where she wanted.

“Be careful there, yes?” warned the Tevinter mage standing at his side, even as he too looked up at their leader. Blackwall rolled his eyes. Did the man honestly think it was necessary, or did he just enjoy his own voice that much?

“She knows what she’s doing better than any one of us,” the warrior said.

Dorian huffed. “Well, your obvious misunderstanding of simple–”

Suddenly, there was a thud from the other side of the building, and in an instant they shut up, grabbed their weapons and rushed through the house, joined by Sera, who had been picking open a chest in another room. Blackwall sincerely hoped it was not another pack of wolves.

As it turned out, it was just Rinata, who had jumped off from the other side of the roof.

“You could have warned us,” Dorian chuckled in relief, slinging his staff back over his shoulder.

“You could have stopped quarrelling and paid attention,” Rinata retorted, stuffing the shard into her already bulging satchel. “Let’s go.”

Sera shook her head and pointed back at the house. “I didn’t finish with that chest thingy.”

“Leave it. Let’s go,” the Inquisitor repeated as she righted her satchel and started walking.

_(He wanted to ask her why she was so quiet and curt lately, to ask her if maybe he could carry that satchel for her, ask her if she was alright. But he had rejected her, and now he had no business asking questions that no one else did.)_

Blackwall glanced at his companions but they both seemed preoccupied with their own thoughts as they fell in step after Rinata.

The warrior frowned.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kindly checked by iscatterthemintimeandspace. I'm sorry, I have some sort of a writer's block and English dumbs. There should be 4 or 5 parts to this, and looks like I'll be posting them one by one as and when I am at least marginally happy with them...


	2. Chapter 2

 

Over the last couple of days, the pile of papers on Rinata’s desk had grown to the point where she was forced to spend a whole day stuck in the camp answering her correspondence and reports.

Head bent low, she read. She wrote. Often, she swore, got up from her bench and paced among the tents, then sat down again and wrote some more.

Blackwall enjoyed the little respite as he helped around the camp, brought some water to the cook, split some firewood. Even so, his gaze constantly returned to the hunched back of their quiet, stubborn and hardworking leader.

_(Every time she got up and paced, he wanted to know what annoyed her so much.)_

_(Every time she sat down again, he wanted to place his big, warm hands on the nape of her neck and knead that tension from her shoulders.)_

Dorian was reading too. Miss Maggie, their requisitions officer, had long since abandoned any attempts to pry the tomes and scriptures they gathered from the mage’s hands before he was done with them. She knew she would get them eventually.

Sera had set up a practice target and was throwing knives at it. Before that, she had very carefully cleaned and oiled her blades, and then very carelessly left a sack of elfroot wilting in the sun, for which she got in an argument both with the cook and with Miss Maggie.

The afternoon passed, and still Rinata was going through the reports, scribbling something on the margins and then sorting the papers into neat stacks by addressee. By late afternoon, the orderly heaps, weighed down with rocks to protect them from the breeze, covered the whole table and both sides of the bench Rinata was sitting on.

When the evening came, with everyone slowly wrapping up their work and gathering around the fire, Blackwall finally gave in and approached her desk.

“It’s getting late, my lady,” he noted quietly as he perched on the bench on the other side of the table. There was an oil lamp burning in one corner, casting an orange glow over the papers. Blackwall wondered if he should say something about the insufficient light she was getting.

_(He was certain it was hurting her eyes, but she was probably too tired to bother getting another one.)_

Rinata sighed, her forehead resting in her hand.

“A couple more letters to go through, and then I have to write one back to Leliana,” she muttered. “Won’t be long, an hour at most.”

“Can’t it wait?”

Rinata shook her head, her shoulders drooping and her full red lips pressed in a thin line. She sighed again as her hands wrapped around a small sheaf of letters they had picked off the dead bodies of Orlesian soldiers and deserters.  Sergeant Meursault had asked them to bring back any personal effects they might find, something to send back to the families.

“It can’t,” Rinata said. “I… I just can’t look at all this destruction anymore. I might do something stupid. Something drastic and regrettable… I _must_ stop it somehow...”

Blackwall had to look away to hide the sudden bitterness that rose up in his throat. She was so bright, young and caring. Why did the Maker have to lead her to the Plains? Was dealing with ancient magisters and their armies of undead not enough? Why here, why war, why the shame and destruction that was Grand Duke Gaspard?

“You will,” he assured her, tamping down the useless questions no one could answer anyway. “If anyone can end this, it’s you, my lady.”

There was a pause as she played with the ribbon holding the pack of letters. “You still believe that?” she asked quietly.

“Always.”

For a moment it looked like she wanted to say something, but then she pursed her lips and stood up. There was a hard glint in her eye as she looked down at the table, and now Blackwall noticed that at some point during the day she had also shaved the side of her head, where over the past weeks her short ginger hair had grown out.

_(He wanted to ask when she had managed that, and who had helped her.)_

_(He wanted to ask why she wouldn’t grow her hair long. But it really was not his business.)_

_(If it had been the cocky mage who’d held the blade or the mirror, then why– Of all the people in the camp, why him?)_

“Hey.” Her kind voice roused him from his gloomy thoughts. “Let’s go eat.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Her hands clenched into fists as they turned towards the fire burning in the centre of their camp.

“What I wish is to find that riverside garrison tomorrow,” she said. “I wish to send all those idiots home, back to honest, useful work, not fighting for an ambitious noble. I wish to see Grand Duke Gaspard hung by his balls from the tallest gallows in Val Royeaux.”

Blackwall looked carefully down at Rinata as they walked into the circle of light. He had never thought she could harbour such hate towards anyone. And to know that this someone was Gaspard… Blackwall took the bowl of stew offered to him by the cook, muttered a thanks and sat down between Sera and one of their scouts, in a place where he could freely watch the Inquisitor.

He had too many questions for her, and no right or reason to ask them. Perhaps he was just seeing things. Perhaps it was nothing.

Blackwall only grunted when Sera elbowed him in the ribs and tried to involve him in a conversation. As he looked up, he caught Rinata’s gaze — a shadow of a smile, and then her eyes were cast down again.

He forced himself to eat the rest of his supper, his heart heavy with doubt and worry. Something was wrong. He felt it in his gut, he just couldn’t put it into words. Looking around once more, at the tired, relaxed, sleepy, laughing, chatting people sitting around the fireplace, Blackwall sighed. It seemed to him that no one else had even noticed.

_(Maybe their belief and trust in her was even blinder than his.)_

_(Maybe his love for her was stronger than theirs.)_

Finished, he stood up, took one lamp from Maggie’s stock, and brought it over to Rinata’s table. The redhead cast him a short glance and continued scribbling her letter to Leliana.

As the warrior sat down, determined to talk her out of any further work and send her off to sleep, she glanced up again.

“Look, I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, flashing him a quick smile, “but there was this one letter I couldn’t place.” She put aside her quill and quickly browsed through her papers, pulling out a crumbled message scrawled on cheap, greyish paper. “This one. Do you think it goes to Sergeant Meursault? It’s not exactly a letter home.”

Blackwall sighed as he took the paper and leaned closer to the light. It was a small thing, what they had agreed to do for the Orlesian officer, but Rinata took it so seriously. Then again, if it was, in fact, a dying soldier’s last missive to his family, then of course they would bring it to the Sergeant.

But it wasn’t. It was just a note, mentioning someone seeing a wanted criminal drinking in some pub near Val Royeaux, then dismissing the rumour as foolish. The sender was advising his friend to join the Orlesian forces in the Plains. Blackwall swallowed past the lump in his throat, his hands suddenly clammy.

“Mm?” Rinata seemed to be finishing the last paragraph of her letter, her quill scratching the paper impatiently. She didn’t look up this time.

“It’s not for Meursault,” Blackwall uttered through clenched teeth before crumbling the letter into a ball, planning to throw it into the fire.

“What’s the matter then? You know this Rainier?” she asked. She folded her letter and reached for her seal. The thud from the brass hitting the table even through the layer of wax and paper, belied her clipped tone.

For a long moment, Blackwall could not say anything. He could just stare at her busy hands as she collected the other letters and checked that everything was properly labelled for sending off tomorrow.

Yes, he thought despondently. Yes, he knew who Thom Rainier was.

Finally she sighed and stood up.

“Don’t mind me,” she muttered. “Long day.”

“That it has been,” Blackwall agreed tiredly. “Go to sleep, my lady. I’ll take care of the lamps and the letters.”

Rinata nodded, another ghost of a smile gracing her lips. “Thank you. Sleep well, Warden.”

Blackwall sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his hands.

He _had_ to stay away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to iscatterthemintimeandspace! She's marvellous. :)  
> Any concrit is very very welcome.
> 
> The letter Rinata was writing to Leliana is [here](http://onbanksofadragonriver.tumblr.com/post/107496705147/dear-leliana-i-urgently-need-your-advice-you), if you like.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I fast-forwarded a bit. The fight to close the rift in the riverside garrison had been tougher than they expected, everyone "died" several times, and in the end Rinata got a concussion, and Sera managed to pull her unhealed arm again.

They returned to Skyhold at a walking pace, horses dragging their feet, heads hung low as they ascended the recently built path to the gate.

Closing the rift on the lower levels of the riverside garrison had taken a heavy toll on the Inquisitor's company. Dorian was pissed off and even more caustic than usual, with an angry welt stretching across his shoulder. His usually impeccable hair was matted with dust and dishevelled from the fighting and the wind. Sera's mount wandered from one side of the path to the other as she nodded listlessly in the saddle. Her injured arm was lying gingerly in her lap. The rest — Miss Maggie with her requisitions and resources, Scout Harding, the cook and the others — had remained far behind as the company had traveled on through the night.

Sitting in front of Blackwall, Rinata swayed in the saddle, her weak grasp on the forger's mane loosening and her head bobbing forwards. Weary and battered himself, the warrior tightened his hold around the little redhead's waist.

"We're almost there, my lady," he murmured in her tousled hair, his throat tight and dry. He silently prayed the Surgeon would be up and about already.

_(He prayed it was just a concussion, and not a curse or poison, or taint.)_

Rinata nodded wordlessly and leaned back against him, her eyes screwed shut to fight the dizziness. 

At the gate, they were greeted by the guards, cheery and fresh, just started their morning shift. They pulled up the portcullis in record speed, and upon seeing their sorry state and the Inquisitor herself as pale as a disgraced dutchess, word was sent immediately to fetch Leliana and Cassandra, and the Surgeon.

Blackwall sighed in relief. They had made it after all. Rinata would be alright. She had to be alright.

He dismounted and then helped the Inquisitor, lifting her off the saddle and putting her down carefully.

_(Maker, she was so small in his arms.)_

_(But heavy for her stature, dense dwarven bones and muscle, heavy leather boots and armour.)_

"I'm gonna be sick," she muttered, clutching his forearm to keep her balance. "Any moment now, I'm gonna be sick all over your pretty Warden armour..."

Blackwall cursed under his breath. Where was that healer woman?! Dorian and Sera had disappeared too, but considering their injuries, the long, exhausting journey and the fact they couldn't help Rinata anyway, Blackwall couldn't blame them.

"Breathe deep," he told her. "Close your eyes and breethe deep, throwing up bile will just make you feel worse."

Rinata grinned weakly up at him, a teasing sparkle in her eyes despite her condition. "While your scent of blood and sweat, and horse, my Warden, on the backdrop of snow-capped mountains..."

Whatever else she wanted to say was interrupted by Cassandra barging down the stairs, Varric and Josephine close behind.

"Mistress Cadash! Everyone was so worried when you sent that last letter!"

"What happened, Inquisitor?" Cassandra called. "Were you attacked? Are you injured?"

"Oh, calm down, Seeker, she'll be fine! You'll be fine, Cadash, right?"

Blackwall almost chuckled at their flustered faces, but then Rinata made a strange step backwards. She greeted them, even as her hold on Blackwall's arm tightened, her chin raised defiantly in spite of her pallor. Confused, the warrior looked down at the redhead, wondering what just happened. He knew that movement like the back of his hand — knew that what usually followed was some bandit or ghoul springing up and attacking. If Rinata hadn't been holding his arm, he would have already reached for his shield on reflex alone.

But they were among their own people now, right?

And then...

"Casandra, we're not fine," the Inquisitor cut off whatever the other woman had been saying, her unusually sharp tone making Blackwall tune in to the conversation again. "You hit Varric. I'm happy you two worked it out while I was gone, but  _we_  are not fine."

"Inquisitor, whatever I did, I have learned my lesson, and I assure you it will never happen again-"

"By the ancestors, you just don't get it, do you? You hit a dwarf, Cassandra! You're tall and strong, and you hit him, and Varric may have forgiven you, but I haven't! And you never even apologized! You just went on about how you should've known better, but this is not about you, Seeker!"

There were bright spots on Cassandra's cheeks as she bit her lip, trying to keep her tone calm and respectful.

"I already explained-"

"Cas, this whole thing started with me in a dungeon and you threatening to kill me! You have something to say about my trust issues?"

"Cadash, now you're exaggerating," Varric tried to speak up. "She didn't know you. You'd have probably done the same thing."

Rinata's hold on Blackwall's arm grew even tighter, making him feel grateful for his gauntlets.

"Done what?" she snapped at the other dwarf. "Hit you because, basically, some Carta trash got to be the Inquisitor, not the glorious Champion of Kirkwall?"

Cassandra gaped at her, and even Josephine looked mortified and lost for words.

"Ladies," Blackwall interrupted, finally giving in to that reflex and stepping in front of the seething Inquisitor. "You can talk later. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow. Whenever she's better."

Rinata crossed her arms over her chest, glaring coldly at Cassandra from behind his back. It seemed she had said everything she'd meant to anyway. The Seeker hung her head, hands clenched in fists at her sides. 

"You should... lie down, Lady Cadash," Josephine ventured, a nervous smile on her lips. "Come Varric, let's help the Inquisitor to her room."

Blackwall stepped aside and watched as Varric put Rinata's hand over his shoulder and started climbing up the stair to the main hall, the ambassador hurrying ahead and pulling open the door for them. On top of the stair, Rinata stopped and turned, looking back at the two warriors left standing in the yard.

As her gaze flickered between them, Blackwall sighed, grateful for the stupor brought on by his weariness.

He loved her. Maker, he loved her, from the bottom of his heart, and it tore at him, to see how quickly her teasing gaze could turn as cold as the frozen river beneath Skyhold, how fragile was her trust and how deep her disappointment. As far as he knew, the fight had happened long ago, and then Cassandra had been sent off on a ridiculous mission to Verchiel, and then Rinata had been away in the Plains. Weeks had passed, and Rinata made it sound like yesterday.

With one final glance, the Inquisitor turned and went inside. 

Blackwall turned too, unsure if the other warrior would appreciate a pat on the shoulder. 

"I apologized. I  _regret_  I ever lashed out at Varric," the Seeker said quietly, her eyes suspiciously bright even as she tried to keep herself collected.

"You wanted her to be someone else," Blackwall sighed. "I don't know, Cassandra. Give her some time maybe. Varric could try talking to her too. I just... I just really need some sleep right now."

The Seeker nodded. "You are right. I will try again..."

 

As he discarded his blood-splattered armour on the floor of his room in the barracks, Blackwall wished that time proved him right. He wished Cassandra to be given a second chance, and for Rinata to feel safe with her again. He knew she missed the proud warrior even if she was angry with her. He also wished... he wished to never see that cold gaze directed at him. Never see her take that half-step back, seeking protection from  _him_. 

He quickly washed his face and then fell on his bed, too tired and torn to bother with anything else. He'd clean his armour tomorrow. He'd also see Sera and try to keep her entertained, lest she pulls that unhealed arm  _again_. Maybe ask around how the Inquisitor is doing. 

Tomorrow. He'll have to face tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and weeks and possibly months, knowing exactly how betrayed trust looks on Rinata's face.

Knowing his own secrets were just biding their time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank youuu to iscatterthemintimeandspace!  
> Dark Waters is a weird piece of writing, I admit that freely lol.


End file.
